When little Father Time looks grimly at
The tick-tock time of bubbles bursting blank,
He's certain what he has to do. His love
Misplaces death. He thinks that we will thank
Him for this sacrifice that he intends
To free us with. Instead, it just transforms
Us, drives us into what we hate. The school
House shuts its doors; life hides out in its dorms.
The cold rain shivers us to death, or so
We like to claim when we in fact give up
On life and cut short time. What suicide
Will bring, what murder fills the marble cup
We kept our hope in, hoping we could learn
The secrets of the word. Oh, Father Time,
Why did you take the best of all I made?
Oh why, my love, did you commit this crime?